Let Us Be Dirtbags

Dirtbag: 

A person who is committed to a given (usually extreme) lifestyle to the point of abandoning employment and other societal norms in order to pursue said lifestyle; Someone who is seeking to spend all of their moments pursuing their lifestyle.

Personal interpretation:

Committing oneself to certain goals or experiences in order to find personal achievement and satisfaction.

So let us be dirtbags. 

After feeling some serious feels at a slam poetry night featuring The Asia Project, and reminiscing over old pictures, I realized that I'm not doing everything I can to make this last semester count. 

With only five weeks left in a familiar, mountainous playground, there are a lot of things that can't be left undone.

And so I've made a list. 

- Do a sunrise hike of the Crimson Trail

- White Pine

- Go rock climbing. MULTIPLE TIMES

- Go hammocking

 - Go to a Bee's game

 - Go DANCING

 - End of Year Bash

 - Lord Huron concert

 - CONQUER the 5.10's

 - Play volley at least ONCE a week

 - Have a bonfire

 - Bear Lake

 - Get a CHACO tan line

 - Get a PoBev shirt 

 - Go on a weekend trip to somewhere NEW

 - Spend quality time with real friends

How am I going to do all this and graduate from USU with acceptable grades?
How am I going to do all of this without my partner in crime?

Not sure.

But Dallin gave me the OK and I'm going to do what I can to make it all work.

Let's get things straight though. I'm not growing dreads or planning on living out of a van in the canyon. Rather, I am planning on committing myself to finding a more few adventures, a little more freedom, and some unforgettable memories before Texas officially claims us. 

So LET US BE DIRTBAGS!

Who's in?

(So you can feel the feels too.)

Home

For Spring Break this year, I flew down to Midland to spend 10 days with Dallin. It was probably the best thing I could have done. 

But the truth is... Midland is different. 

When the pilot announced our decent into Midland, my first thought was,

"This is where aliens come to draw in the dirt."

Here are the rest of my impressions of Midland: 

I've never been so lost in my whole life as I was during this trip. No mountains, no hills, just the flattest land you ever did see. Not to mention, most of the major roads seem to merge into an endless loop. It's a good thing Dallin drove everywhere, or we probably would have ended up driving in circles all day. 

People in Midland have money. Since it's a town built on oil, it's probably easy to believe that most of the people there have reasonable stacks on stacks of the green stuff. Because of this inflow of cash, the cars there are NICE. Most parking lots go truck, truck, truck, Camaro, Mustang, truck, VW Bug, truck, Mustang, VW Bug, truck, truck, and another truck. All of them probably less than three or five years old. 

We also saw a Lamborghini racing around the private airport.

Midland is also full of contradictions. On one side of a street there was a trailer park with older vehicles and a dog that really needed some love. But on the other side was a massive house, completely fenced in, with three cars and a boat in the driveway. 

When venturing about in Midland, you soon learn that the only things to do are shop, go to the gym, eat, or drink. Too bad the service at most of these establishments is truly the most terrible I have ever received. Butt cracks and bad meat, (Chipotle, I'm talking about you!!!), delayed customer service, and rude and short-tempered employees. It got to the point where if I received any sort of competent and complimentary service, I was willing to tip well above the recommended 20%.

Growing up in Utah, I'm used to seeing clusters of churches throughout town. But everything's bigger in Texas. Some churches are bigger than my old middle school, and others are rodeo churches where members of the congregation have opportunities to ride into the ring. 

And don't forget about the oil. 

Automated oil pumps dot the landscape, slowly pulling oil right out of the ground. In the middle of town, between stores in a shopping center, was a half-acre of land, fenced off with a well right in the middle. 

Walking through the airport also leaves no question as to what this town is all about. Signs like this plaster the walls.

But despite the oddities and differences of this "Hey ya'll" culture, I can't help but think of it as home. 

There are just so many endearing qualities about this place. 

Texans love America, and are proud of their great state, and their great nation. And that Texan accent? Who couldn't love that?

Sports are taken seriously. Some high school football stadiums could rival those of some colleges.

They have the best ice cream.

They know how to make a dang good burger.

And Texas is where my boy is. 

Wherever Dallin is... Is home.